


A Simple Kind of Man

by UppityBitch



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 09:24:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10988040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UppityBitch/pseuds/UppityBitch
Summary: Caroline is a well-known archaeologist specializing in Norse settlements and believes she has made a career-defining discovery at a dig site in Norway. Klaus, a mysterious local, is about to teach her that the world is a far more mysterious place than she could ever imagine.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: If you’re interested, I also feature the Goddess Hel and Norse mythology in my Klaroline multi-chap work, Divine Intervention. I’d love to read your feedback on this work as well if you have time to review. Thanks!

“And be a simple kind of man.  
Be something you love and understand.”

— Lynyrd Skynyrd

  
  
“Tell me, herdsman, sitting on the hill,  
And watching all the ways,  
How may I win a word with the maid  
Past the hounds of Gymir here?"

 

"Art thou doomed to die or already dead,  
Thou horseman that ridest hither?  
Barred from speech shalt thou ever be  
With Gymir's daughter good.”

— _Poetic Edda_

 

The reassuring scrape of the dental pick was the only noise Caroline could hear as she crouched down on the hardened clay floor of the tomb. She could barely contain her excitement and she reminded herself to use a delicate touch as she removed the dirt from around the iron ax head that was partially embedded in the ground. Grumbling to herself, she felt like an overexcited freshman intern on her first dig site rather than a seasoned archaeologist and tenured professor. As she admired the sweeping inlays of silver and gold along the ax blade, she realized that her excitement was warranted — normally Viking axes were viewed as simple tools, crafted either for battle or farming, but the sumptuous decorations of this object signified that it was owned by a Viking warrior who had amassed great wealth and respect amongst his clan.

The ninth-century Viking tomb was carved into the Haukeli mountains, a find that was completely unheard of as normally the Vikings built mounds to honor their dead. When Caroline completed her findings, she would undoubtedly add to her already sterling reputation in academia as the foremost expert on Norse settlements. A noise at the tomb’s narrow opening startled her, and she glanced up in irritation at being interrupted by one of her student interns until she saw who it was and immediately fought to hide the rosy blush that crept up her neck.

“My apologies for startling you,” Klaus Mikaelson murmured as he stepped into the tomb. He seemed to notice her embarrassment and politely averted his eyes to gaze unnecessarily at the markings on the wall while Caroline composed herself. He was a local farmer who had appeared on the first day at the dig site to volunteer with excavations. At first, Caroline had been skeptical, and waved off his offer of assistance as she had an entire group of college students that would be in the way most of the time despite their best intentions, and she had no need to take on additional babysitting duties. However, he had surprised her with his vast knowledge of Norse settlements, a hobby of his, and he had grown up in the Norwegian mountain village below, so his grasp of local history and its natural landmarks had proven useful on more than one occasion.

She remembered how she had stammered through her consent to allow him to volunteer for the duration of the dig, taking in his ridiculously perfect visage of chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and piercing, ice-blue eyes. _Not to mention that delicious accent as he clipped off certain English words_. His lips had twitched as though he was trying to hide a teasing smile, but he managed to maintain a respectful, professional demeanor throughout this first month at the dig site. She shook her head slightly, trying to settle the butterflies in her stomach and focus on the task at hand. “You didn’t startle me, I was just admiring this latest find,” she explained, letting out an adorable victory squeal as she managed to free the ax head from the ground.   

Klaus chuckled at her obvious enthusiasm, and held out the tray of artifacts he had brought her. “Shall I add your new trophy to the items Jeremy needs to catalog?”

Caroline frowned slightly as she quickly counted the considerable number of items on the tray. “Seriously? That kid still hasn’t photographed what Vicky’s group uncovered from the north quadrant last week?” She clenched her fists as she added in exasperation, “He’s wasting his scholarship getting stoned in the woods instead of learning something useful!”

He gave her an indulgent smile, putting down the wooden tray and settling on the floor near her. “The boy is what, 18? 19?” At her non-committal shrug, he chuckled, “He laments the drudgery of this work. He’s fortunate not to have lived in the old days.”

She giggled trying to picture her slacker student trying to survive in Viking society. “Depending upon the clan, he would have been counted as a man between the ages of 10 and 16 winters. He would have been expected to work and contribute to the betterment of the village.”

Klaus snorted derisively. “I pity the mentor he would have been apprenticed under. I suspect teaching him trades in farming, navigation, building, or warfare would be quite the challenge.”

Caroline nudged him playfully with her elbow, “If he had been fortunate enough to apprentice with the local smithy, he probably would have become a skilled bong maker.”

They laughed together at the absurd image their words conjured. Caroline averted her gaze when she realized she had been staring far too long into his beautiful blue eyes. The light from the afternoon sun had filtered into the tomb’s opening, glinting off of the circular silver amulet he wore around his neck. When she had admired the intricate design, he had told her it had been in his family for ages. She noticed he would touch it from time to time, a faraway look on his face. She could sense great sorrow in his past, but she didn’t want to pry, so she kept her observations to herself. She hoped that he would open up to her in his own time.

“What about you,” he asked, interrupting her thoughts. “I could see you doing more than running a Viking household. Your fierceness would have been greatly rewarded in a clan,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

She scoffed, tucking stray blonde strands back into her messy bun. “The life expectancy was 20 years. I doubt I would have done anything particularly remarkable in such a short time span.”

He shook his head in disagreement. “Your strength and forceful will would have been noticed and nurtured by the elders. They would have taught you to wield a sword and then you would have been off exploring, having marvelous adventures discovering new territories for your clan to conquer.”

The certainty in his voice that he could know her so well after only a month together touched her. “How do you think you would have fared in that world? I see you as a celebrated warrior,” she said confidently, trying to avoid staring too long at the way his muscles were perfectly outlined against the simple cotton fabric of his gray pullover.

Klaus’ blue eyes became hard as he said in a clipped tone, “That life would not be for me. I enjoy a simple, quiet life and would have done as I do now — farm the land.”

Caroline felt guilty for bringing up a subject she knew was sensitive for him. A couple of weeks ago, she had asked about his family and she learned that they were soldiers that had been lost in battle years ago. She asked if he had taken part in his family’s military tradition, and he had explained hesitantly that he had begun his life in that manner, but found violence distasteful. He chose a different way to live, embracing the peaceful, simple life of a farmer. She blushed when she recalled how she had embarrassed herself by telling him: _You are far too fascinating to be considered simple_.

She realized she was in danger of being caught staring at Klaus once again, so she hastily changed the subject with, “What are your thoughts on this tomb? Why was this Viking warrior singled out to be laid to rest in a manner that defied their burial customs?”

He shrugged, lowering his eyes to the floor. “Norsemen were not prone to overt demonstrations of their affections. Perhaps this was their way of honoring his life?” He lightly traced the packed clay floor with one finger. “After all, the dead just want to be remembered.”

“I like that sentiment,” Caroline said with a warm smile. “I suppose that’s all any of us can hope for in the end — to leave this world knowing that others will keep our memories alive.” She dusted off her knees and stood up, reaching for the tray at Klaus’ feet and adding the intricately decorated ax head. “Come on — you can watch me yell at Jeremy for being lazy. Who knows? If we stand close enough, we may get a contact high.”

Klaus chuckled as he shyly pulled a stray leaf out of her messy bun. “Let’s not carry all of the contents out of the tomb today,” he teased.

Laughing, she quickly patted her head to see if anything else would fall out to embarrass her in front of the inconveniently sexy farmer. As they headed outside, she pointed her chin behind them and said determinedly, “Tomorrow I want to reexamine the south wall. There was something about those carvings that I feel needs to be studied further. I keep thinking I’m missing something, but when I first looked at them, I was so excited to read about the heroic sagas of this unknown warrior, I think I may have overlooked other details. It’s entirely possible that we’ll find some clue as to where he’s buried within the tomb. I don’t want to bring the students in to break up the floor and blindly dig until absolutely necessary though.”

He was quiet as he pondered her words. The look he finally gave her was thoughtful. “In that case, would you care to join me this evening at the lake? It might be nice to step away from your work briefly. Maybe you’ll gain insight with a bit of peace.”

She nodded eagerly, her heart leaping in her chest at his suggestion in that captivating accent of his. The lake he spoke of was a beautiful slice of heaven tucked away in the mountains. It was only a short walk from the dig site, and Klaus had been taking her there off and on since they met. At first, she convinced herself it was part of her job to familiarize herself with the local land formations, but as she realized how much she enjoyed his company, she tried to rationalize that it was important to solidify partnerships with the local community since the university had funded their dig for several years. But the last couple of visits had felt decidedly more date-like and she couldn’t help but feel as though tonight’s meeting held special meaning for him as well.

That evening, Caroline closed her eyes as she savored the sweet honey taste of the mead Klaus had brought to the lake. “This is delicious — is it Suttungs Mjød?”

Klaus wrinkled his nose in distaste. “You can buy that anywhere. This is from my private stores.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you made your own mead; color me impressed.” She took another sip, finding the splash of spicy ginger delightful. She stretched her legs out on the large, flat rock they had claimed as their own whenever they spent time here. Lake Válað was just steps away, a beautiful, isolated stretch of dark water. Fog curled along the top, adding to its mysterious appearance. Its name meant “destiny” in Old Norse.

Klaus gave her a teasing smile as he drank from his ceramic mug. “Would you like me to impress you further, Caroline?”

She giggled, feeling the warmth of the mead soaking into her body. The alcohol was a welcome barrier against the cool Norwegian air. She had bundled up for their outing, but still felt the bite of the cold when she took a breath. “I don’t know if your ego would survive any further praise,” she said wryly.

“The spirit can survive all manner of things — if it has the strength,” he said softly. Flicking his blue gaze to the water, he suddenly asked, “What do you know of the Norse goddess Hel?”

Caroline rested on her elbows, shrugging her shoulders slightly. “She was the daughter of Loki, ruler of the underworld and guardian of the graves. Why do you ask?”

He set down his mug, gesturing to the lake. “The myths say that Lake Válað was formed by Hel’s tears when she lost her only love, the god Fenrir. One of her gifts was that of foresight, and the Vikings believed that drinking from these waters before battle would bestow visions upon them to help defeat their enemies.”

Her eyes widened as she felt her fingers itch to find an ink pen and her field journal to scribble down Klaus’ words. He had been a wealth of local legends, and she had compiled enough information that she could publish several journal articles when she returned to the university once the dig had run its course. She wondered if he would be interested in co-authoring; his rich voice enhanced his storytelling, and she found herself spellbound by his words. “Have you ever drank from the lake,” she asked, hating how breathless she sounded as she noted how closely he had leaned into her during his story.

“That’s between me and the lake,” Klaus told her with a wistful smile.

Caroline’s sarcastic reply was interrupted when she noticed movement near the spruce trees on the other side of the lake. A flock of wild reindeer had gathered near the water’s edge. She held her breath, not wanting to make a sound and startle the majestic creatures. Their gray and white coats glinted silver in the starlight, and they seemed unconcerned by the two awestruck figures staring at them. They disappeared back into the forest with barely a rustle of leaves under their hooves after they drank their fill. “What a remarkable place,” Caroline said in a hushed whisper. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been to a place that has this feeling of peace and…” she trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Magic,” Klaus offered with a grin full of mirth. “Legend also says that this lake is a gateway to the underworld. The living can wade in the water carrying something that belonged to a deceased loved one and they will find the Goddess Hel. If they bravely face her, she may be convinced to release the loved one from the underworld so that they may live again.” 

“I envy people that can inspire that level of devotion,” she sighed sadly. “I can’t even inspire my students to properly catalog artifacts.” She took another sip of the warm mead, embarrassed that her voice sounded so vulnerable.  

His gaze sharped as he studied her features with rapt attention. “So then you are not promised to another?”

She frowned slightly, toying with the chipped mug. “No, I don’t have…there isn’t anyone,” she said quietly.

He took both of her hands in his, pulling her toward him. “Then the men in your life are utter fools. You are a fascinating creature whose beauty and intelligence are a stunning sight to behold.” He dipped his head down shyly, unable to look at her as he continued his confession. “Forgive my boldness, but I never thought I’d find one such as you, and I cannot bear the thought of you believing yourself unworthy of devotion.”

“Do you mean that,” Caroline asked breathlessly, scarcely believing that this amazing, gorgeous man would be interested in her.

His head snapped up at her uncertain tone and his blue eyes darkened as he surged forward to kiss her with a sweet passion that left her a giddy mess. She tangled her fingers in his dirty blonde curls, tugging on the short strands at the nape of his neck as she sought his mouth for a more generous kiss. They reclined together against the cold rock, emitting small sighs as they gave into the tension that had been building from almost the moment they met. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them not to take things to far, and their careful exploration of each other’s bodies didn’t stray past gentle touches and deep kisses.

Sighing contentedly against his chest, she huffed, “It’s getting late, and as much as I would like to continue this, we should probably head back. We have an early day tomorrow.” She gave him a quick peck and asked hesitantly, “But perhaps we could come back tomorrow night?”

The sadness that crept into his eyes was unexpected. “I hope so,” he replied softly.

The next morning, Caroline was pleased to see her excavators working in the north quadrant, carefully passing the buckets of dirt to the group of interns that were screening the sediment for small artifact pieces. She nodded in approval as she saw Jeremy finally photographing and cataloging the group of artifacts that had been collected in the past week. When she reached the opening of the tomb, her heart gave a little flutter as she found Klaus standing in the middle of the south wall, waiting patiently for her to arrive.

“Hi,” she said, hating how small her voice sounded as she waited expectantly to see how Klaus would behave after those surprising kisses last night. Years ago, when she had been a starry-eyed student intern, she had allowed herself to get caught up in the romance of being far away from home and latched onto someone who had shown interest, only later to be brushed aside and harshly informed that she was meant to be a distraction and nothing more. She tossed and turned most of last night, hoping that this time it was real and that Klaus truly cared for her.

“Good morning Caroline,” he said, greeting her warmly. He noticed the awkwardness of her stance and the way she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He stepped in front of her, clasping her hand in his as he gently brushed her knuckles with his thumb. “Is this regret I see? Was I was too forward last night?”

The uncertainty in his tone made her melt and she was finally able to look at him. “No, not at all,” she began hesitantly. “It’s just...I wasn’t sure if what you said last night would be true today. I didn’t want to assume…” she trailed off in embarrassment.

Klaus’s lips were pressed into a grim line as though angry on her behalf of how she had been treated in the past. “Those previous suitors were unworthy of you, Caroline. Put aside your fears. I know what I feel for you, and it will be as true today as it was last night.” He leaned in slowly, his piercing blue eyes studying her face carefully, as though wordlessly asking permission. At her slight nod, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips as though sealing in his beautiful words.

When they broke free, pressing their foreheads together and panting slightly, Caroline beamed at him. “You’re a terrible distraction, you know.”

“Then permit me to acquit myself,” he said, backing away with a small bow. “I found some unusual markings that I can’t quite decipher. Perhaps you are familiar with them?” He gestured toward the middle of the wall, where long lines had been deeply scored into the rock.

Caroline pulled out a small paintbrush, carefully swiping away sediment that had settled into the curious etchings. Peering closely at the markings, she muttered, “They don’t appear to represent any of the 16 characters found in the Younger Futhark alphabet, most common in Scandinavian runestones.” She consulted her field notebook and huffed impatiently when she found nothing useful.

Amused by the cute noises of aggravation she was making, Klaus took her hand and moved her several feet away from the carvings. At her questioning look, he said, “I sometimes find it helpful to step back and examine the entire problem at hand rather than poke at a small piece of it,” he explained helpfully.

Forehead wrinkled in concentration, she did as he suggested and as her eyes swept across the entire expanse of runic carvings, her entire face lit up with excitement. “Pieces!” She bounced on her toes, gleefully kissing Klaus on the cheek as she continued enthusiastically, “That’s it! Klaus, you’re a genius!” She pulled him back toward the unusual markings, waving her hands wildly and pointing. “These scored etchings aren’t runes; they’re acting as camouflage to hide a door to an inner tomb!”

She pulled out a small chisel and carefully tapped at the seam of the hidden door. She let out a small squeal when the metal edge tripped an invisible latch that pushed the wall open several feet. Coughing at the dust that the small room released, she grabbed both of Klaus’ hands, dancing around in a silly circle as she practically vibrated with excitement. “Do you know what this means? We just found the hidden resting place of the Viking warrior!” Unable to control herself, she pulled his handsome face to hers, kissing him soundly.

“You did it, sweetheart,” Klaus said in a proud whisper as he broke their kiss.

“ _We_ did it,” Caroline corrected. “And when the dig is over, I want you to return to the university with me to help curate the objects we find and co-author journal articles,” she said in a rush, biting her lip hopefully as she waited for his response.  

A curious sadness invaded Klaus’ blue gaze once again before he blinked it away and smiled down at her. “It is my honor to be by your side, Caroline.” He nodded toward the newly open door. “Fulfill your destiny. I will be with you.”

Caroline crossed the threshold into the hidden room with Klaus behind her. She marveled at the artifacts she saw, amazingly preserved thanks to the Haukeli mountains experiencing such little humidity. It was clearly the tomb of a celebrated warrior, the beautifully carved knives, swords and axes were piled near the massive stone bier where a skeleton lay. She was flushed with excitement upon seeing such a site — the ceremonial stone bier was unheard of in a Viking burial. In addition, a bronze mask had been placed on the skeleton still partially shrouded in remnants of leather. This was an unprecedented find as funeral masks had never been a part of Viking death rituals until now.

As she stood over the body, she gasped at what she saw. The bronze mask was exquisitely carved, capturing the perfectly chiseled jawline, piercing eyes and curls that she immediately recognized. The cold air of the tomb seemed to seep into her soul as she shivered, casting her fearful eyes toward the threshold where Klaus should be standing, favoring her with that gentle smile of his. _It was empty_.

Tears welling, she took in the warrior before her, a sob escaping her as she saw the silver amulet resting upon his chest, the cord he would have worn it on disintegrated long ago. With trembling fingers, she traced the raised edges of the elaborate carvings, somehow finding comfort in the familiar pattern she had stared at for the past month. She clasped the small circle in her palm, hastily wiping away her tears. She straightened her spine and squared her shoulders before she marched out of the tomb. _She had to be sure_.  

She found Jeremy still photographing artifacts outside and said urgently, “Can you tell me where Klaus went to?” She was proud of the way she kept her voice from shaking as she said his name.

Jeremy looked at her in confusion, scratching his brown locks. “Um, Klaus? Who’s that?”

“A local farmer that’s been helping out around here,” she explained in a clipped tone, trying to keep her overwhelming sorrow at bay.

“But we haven’t had any locals volunteer, remember? That’s why the university extended our funding because we told them it would take us longer than we thought to fully excavate the area,” Jeremy explained carefully, his eyes widening in surprise at the immense sadness he saw on his professor’s face.

Caroline quickly schooled her features into something akin to indifference as she thanked her student and quietly walked away. Her mind was swirling with thoughts of Klaus as her heart was breaking. She wasn’t even sure _what_ she was mourning, only that the ache she felt was _real_ even if nothing else was.

Before she realized what she was doing, she found herself standing on top of their rock, overlooking Lake Válað. Old Norse for _destiny_. Her tears had returned as she gazed upon the dark water. Klaus had said that _the dead just want to be remembered_. Was that true? Did Klaus only wish to be remembered? The sharp wind whipped her blonde waves around her face as she thought of his story last night. Perhaps he told her about the gateway to the underworld to give her a choice.

Caroline clutched the silver amulet in her sweaty palm, staring fiercely at the water. She didn’t feel particularly brave at the thought of seeking out a Norse goddess, but she was willing to try.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Caroline has discovered that Klaus, the simple farmer who volunteered at her dig site in Norway, is the furthest thing from simple. Now that she knows the truth, what’s her next move?

“Heroes go the way to Hel,

And heaven is rent in twain.”

— _The Prose Edda_

 

 

_The things I do for a decent date_ , Caroline thought, shaking her head as she clutched the circular silver object in her hand and continued wading in the frigid waters of Lake Válað. She ran her thumb over the raised edges of the elaborately carved piece, the familiar design grounding her in this moment of uncertainty. _And possible insanity_. To distract herself from the numbing cold of the lake, she ran through her list of facts and factish-like observations she had made.

She was a somewhat famous archaeologist who specialized in Norse settlements. She had been in Norway for a month, excavating the tomb of a Viking warrior, an extraordinary find not only because of the unusual location of the tomb carved into a mountainside, but also the manner in which he had been buried that could potentially challenge much of academia’s understanding of Viking culture. Those were concrete facts that her scientific, overly analytical mind could take comfort in knowing.

Her blue eyes narrowed as she moved on to the less-substantiated aspects of her situation. A local farmer, Klaus, had appeared the day her team began its excavations, a charming, devilishly handsome stranger whose knowledge of Norse settlements appeared to rival her own at times, Caroline had grudgingly admitted to herself on more than one occasion. She had allowed him to stay, grateful to the lone local volunteer as his stories about the region had been fascinating and added to her understanding of the culture and its people.

They spent every day together, sifting through clay, brushing away the ravages of time upon the priceless artifacts they discovered. She learned about his family, whom he had lost long ago in military combat, something he himself had embraced before he realized that a simple, farmer’s life was his heart’s desire. She memorized the way his lips and tongue curved around the words as he spoke English, finding it alarmingly sensual as his accent left her uncomfortably warm. His adorable dimples would flash whenever he seemed embarrassed. The soft fire in his beautiful blue eyes when he looked at her. The way his kisses left her breathless. These were things she _knew_.

_But what if she was wrong?_

Caroline’s world ended the moment she opened the hidden room in the Viking warrior’s tomb. _She just didn’t realize it at the time._ She had eagerly rushed inside, her curious eyes taking in the stunning sights of elaborately decorated weaponry and other beautifully preserved artifacts that she couldn’t wait to touch and catalog and share with the rest of the world. When she saw the skeleton laid out in the most unusual manner upon a ceremonial stone bier and wearing a bronze funeral mask, she was awestruck. She recognized the importance of this find and how it could monumentally alter academia’s perceptions of Nose settlements.

It all came crashing down when she caught a glimpse of the artist’s skillful rendering of the Viking warrior’s face carved into the elaborate death mask. Every curve of his striking features had been captures in exquisite, heartbreaking detail. She had stubbornly refused to believe what this meant and had looked for Klaus, desperately hoping to see him at the doorway where she left him, gazing at her once more. The emptiness that had greeted her hurt worse than any heartbreak she had endured. She took the remnants of the all-to-familiar silver amulet and had raced out of the tomb, anxious to interact with another person, hoping they could ease her fears and to prove that she wasn’t crazy.

When she had asked her student intern, Jeremy, about Klaus, the confusion on his face as he explained that he had never heard of Klaus and that there had been no local volunteers since the dig began, had left her cold and shaking with questions she was terrified to ask. _Was he ever real? Did she imagine every look, every touch, every perfect moment?_ The local legends he had told her and the wisdom he shared was not knowledge that she had possessed before meeting him. That was the truth she had clung to as she raced to the lake that had been their haven.   

_Which is why she found herself neck-deep in murky water that chilled her to the bone, clutching a silver amulet and hoping for a miracle._ She was a woman of science, a reasonable woman caught in an unreasonable situation. Klaus had told her that the lore claimed that Lake Válað, whose name meant “destiny” in Old Norse, had been formed by the goddess Hel’s tears over her lost love, Fenrir. Possessing the gift of foresight, Viking warriors would drink deeply from the lake in hopes that the goddess would grant them visions of how to defeat their enemies.

Caroline recalled how Klaus’ velvet tone had faltered when he spoke of the myth that the lake was actually a gateway to the underworld that the living could take if they possessed an object that belonged to a deceased loved one. Supposedly if they bravely faced Hel she may be convinced to release the departed soul so that they would live once more.

_I have lost my damn mind_ , Caroline thought as she fought another intense shiver, hugging her body as she endured the cold water. She considered herself to be an educated, logical woman, and while she immersed herself in Norse legends, she never once paused to consider if any of it could be _real_. Because it was ridiculous to think that it could be. Except now she was nearly fully submerged in a bitingly cold lake in Norway clutching a silver amulet that belonged to a Viking warrior who may possibly have returned from the dead as a ghost to fall in love with her and hinted at how she might be able to bring him back from the land of the dead. _Boys were so much trouble_.

Sighing loudly, she yanked the metal object out of the water, holding it up in the sunlight and rubbing the scored edge with a finger to see if she could see any writing that might indicate what she should do next. Klaus hadn’t spoken of any incantation to mutter or specific place to stand when he told her the legend. His vague instructions to wade into the lake holding an object from a loved one didn’t seem to be activating any mystical portal to the Viking underworld. She was determined not to give up though — she needed to prove to herself that he had been _real_. _That what they had was real_.

Deciding that she should explore the tomb further to see if there were any references to the lake or the goddess Hel, she started slowly walking toward the shoreline with a heavy heart. She was a scientist, and while this experiment had been a failure, with additional research, surely she could figure it out. Before she could take another step, she felt a curious pulling sensation from deep within, as though the water had sunk into her bones and was calling her home. Suddenly, she was yanked into the center of the lake by a powerful invisible force, and as the cold water rushed over her terrified face, she struggled in vain to reach the surface once more.

A vortex opened below her and she was pushed forcefully through the opening until she plummeted to an inexplicable stretch of dry land. Coughing and sputtering, the lungful of lake water she swallowed burned her throat. As she remained on her hands and knees trying to catch her breath, she happened to gaze up and was shocked to see Lake Válað far above her head, its mysterious dark waters smooth as glass once more. She was in a cavern far below the lake; that much she could ascertain. _It worked_. She didn’t fully understand the science behind it, but she pushed her rational mind to quickly grasp the concept that she would need to skillfully navigate the delicate line between what she _knew_ and what she _felt_. It was the only way she could save herself and possibly Klaus as well.

Caroline shakily rose to her feet, glad that she had left on her canvas sneakers even though they had weighed her down in the lake. She noticed that the ground was littered with jagged rocks and disturbing bits of a hard, white substance that she was fairly certain was human bone. She took a hesitant step, the water squelching in her shoes as she moved. She winced at the noise she was making — this seemed like the kind of place where it would be beneficial to make as little noise as possible. She pushed back her wet hair, the blonde strands wanting to stick to her cheeks and neck as she looked more closely at her surroundings.

There was a slight chill to the air, similar to the Norwegian countryside she had lived in this past month, but whereas the Haukeli mountains and its valley below held a simplistic beauty of stunning jewel tones only found in nature, what she gazed upon now was desolate, colorless and the air itself seemed to hold its breath in dread. _Okay_ , she thought, _this is still not the worst date I’ve ever been on_.

She tried to recall everything she knew about the Norse underworld. Texts agreed that there were three primary places where the dead were sent: Valhöll, Old Norse for “the hall of the fallen”, Fólkvangrand, which meant “the field of warriors”, and Helheimr, or “the home of the goddess Hel”. She had no way of knowing which part of the underworld she had been sent to, but assumed that if the legend Klaus had told her was accurate, she was likely to find the goddess Hel sooner or later. _Not that I have any idea what to do once I meet her_ , she thought warily. _Grad school should really do a better job of preparing you for these typical real-life career situations_.

Before she could take another uncertain step, the ground trembled, causing the scattered bone shards to dance at her feet. Suddenly, an enormous iron gate emerged from the earth, the heavy piers on either side had been carved with identical images of Jormundgandr, the serpentine descendent of the god Loki, and the goddess Hel’s half-brother. She craned her neck to see the top of the gate, the historian in her wanting to memorize every detail possible. Caroline was alarmed to see the mass of writhing black snakes entwined throughout the ironwork. She kept her distance as she recalled that the lore said these snakes were not only venomous, but also that their poison fell like acid upon the earth.

Caroline was trying to recall how the legends revealed one could gain entrance when without warning, the massive double gate opened wide in an absurdly welcoming gesture. She carefully stepped forward, her sodden sneakers still squeaking. She could hear a sinister cackling that made her blood freeze despite the furious pounding of her heart.

_What a tremendous amount of trouble for a pair of dimples_ , she thought as she finished crossing the threshold, tightly clutching Klaus’ silver amulet.    


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Caroline is attempting to outwit an ancient Norse goddess. Seems like a lot of trouble for a date…

“ ’Tis time to tell, on turf as I lie,  
felled by the sword, what fate was ours:  
unlike our lot in life hath been,  
to Hel fare I while whole thou livest.”

_— Hildibrand’s Death Song_

****

                  _Nothing_. That was what greeted Caroline as she crossed the threshold of the massive iron gate. She looked around frantically, searching for the owner of the sinister cackling she had heard on the other side of the gate. The hissing of the venomous black snakes dangling from the metal spokes heightened her apprehension.

                  A cold caress against her cheek startled her, and the invisible hand insistently trailed its fingers through her tangled wet tresses, nearly petting her. She whirled around and gave an inarticulate yelp of surprise at the creature before her.

                  A fearsome study in opposites greeted Caroline. The unearthly being’s appearance was neatly split in two halves: a captivating blonde woman of ethereal beauty versus a withered demon with burning eyes. The creature radiated power as it twisted its lips into a wicked smile. “Caroline Forbes, have you journeyed here to swear an oath to me?”

                  Caroline inhaled sharply, trying to get her bearings. She felt the weight of Klaus’ amulet in her sweaty palm and she took comfort from it. She summoned what paltry knowledge she possessed regarding the goddess Hel. Unfortunately, Norse mythology had little to say about the daughter of Loki who ruled the underworld and was appointed guardian of the graves. She bowed her head slightly and answered, “No, goddess Hel, I will not swear an oath.” She had read stories about oath-swearing to the gods. Nothing good ever came from it — the gods tended to be malicious tricksters and could harbor grudges.

                  The goddess’ grin was alarming. “No? Someone has taught you well, child.” Her demonic half pointed a sharp claw at Caroline’s sweaty fist that held Klaus’ token. “You seek to secure my blessing. To convince me to relinquish my hold on one of the departed.”

                  She held her head high as her blue eyes registered their irritation at Hel’s mocking tone. “Yes. I claim Klaus as mine.”

                  “Yours?” Hel lightly chuckled at Caroline’s defiant tone. “Are you sure,” she asked, reaching out with her claws once more to stroke Caroline’s damp blonde curls.

                  “Y-yes,” Caroline stuttered, hating how uncertainty had crept into her voice. She pulled her hair away from the goddess’ reach, fighting every instinct that told her to flee.

                  “How can you be so sure, sweet one,” the powerful creature silkily asked. “After all, weren’t you sure about Matt all those years ago?” At Caroline’s stunned expression, Hel’s eyes glittered in triumph. “You were quite enamored with him when you were barely a slip of a girl, weren’t you? He was your mentor and you allowed yourself to be carried away by the thrill of being far away from home and capturing the interest of such a distinguished scholar.”

                  Caroline closed her eyes in embarrassment as she was overwhelmed by the onslaught of unwelcome memories from her past.

                  _During her freshman year in college, she had taken several of Matt’s classes and found herself drawn to the charming young professor who was considered a giant in his field despite the fact that he was barely 30. She had volunteered for every extra credit project he offered his students in the hopes that she could learn more from him and even tried to model her course selection so that it would help her mirror his career path one day. He was her idol and she painstakingly read every book he’d written and attended every lecture he gave, desperate to soak up all the knowledge she could so that she too could excel in her field._

_Then the summer before her sophomore year, Matt recommended her for an internship overseas on a dig he was heading. She could hardly believe her good fortune — two whole months of working side by side with her mentor; it was a dream come true. She had been self-aware enough to realize that she had developed an inconvenient crush on Matt, and was horrified that he might suspect. She went out of her way to keep their interactions professional so that he would respect her as a student and perhaps view her as a future colleague one day._

_However, to her amazement, Matt’s trademark easy-going manner turned into something else entirely as they spent every day together, and she found herself questioning whether her feelings were truly one-sided. Soon, Matt approached her, confessing that he had tried to ignore his feelings but that she was far too pretty and smart to ignore and he had to take the chance or else they might miss out on something spectacular._

_Caroline ignored her instincts and had foolishly allowed herself to become swept away by Matt’s charm and lovely words. After an amazing summer together, she was coldly cast aside by Matt when they were packing up their equipment at the dig site and he gave her an eloquent, yet insulting speech that was painfully obvious that he had given it many times before. She had been a pleasant distraction and nothing more._

“Poor child, what a painful memory,” the goddess slyly remarked. “So eager to try your pitiful luck again?”

Caroline’s blue eyes flashed as her anger at the goddess’ mocking tone temporarily pulled her from her fright at being in the presence of such a dangerous being. “Seriously? I didn’t get sucked all the way down here for passive-aggressive mom judgement. I already have a terrifying mother, thanks.” At Hel’s comically raised eyebrow, Caroline shrugged and added, “What? Forbes women are scary.”

Hel surged forward, her eyes set aflame at Caroline’s impertinent tone. She grasped Caroline’s delicate chin in her demon claws and hissed, “How do you know Klaus is different? What makes him worthy of your affections?”

Caroline ignored the frantic beating of her heart as she gazed fearfully at the terrifying goddess. She swallowed painfully, trying not to move and cause the sharp claws to dig further into her flesh. “Because he’s the only one who ever told me I was worth something.” She recalled last night at the lake when Klaus had confessed his feelings. _Forgive my boldness, but I never thought I’d find one such as you, and I cannot bear the thought of you believing yourself unworthy of devotion._ He had been so earnest and steadfast; something no one had ever given her before, and she was determined not to let her chance at happiness pass her by. She squared her shoulders and steadily met Hel’s fiery gaze. “He believed that I was worthy. And I intend to prove him right. Because he’s worthy too.”

The immortal seemed taken aback by Caroline’s confession, and her death grip lessoned to that of an unsettling caress. “What a curious creature you are, little girl.” She nodded to herself as she released her hold on Caroline, the long golden curls of her human half sprang to life, swirling around her waist. “Let us begin,” the finality of her tone set off warning bells for Caroline who looked at her in surprise.

“Begin what exactly,” Caroline asked suspiciously.

“The judgement of Klaus of course,” Hel said with an imperious air. “Well, _your_ judgement of Klaus. _You_ , dear child, are the one who will decide if he is deserving of a second life in your world,” she continued in a matter-of-fact tone.

Caroline’s thoughts raced as she contemplated the goddess’ words. She crossed her arms in front of her and inquired carefully, “Why do this? Why give _any_ soul a second chance? You’re the ruler of the underworld and guardian of the graves. You’re obscenely powerful. You’re like a tenured professor with unlimited grant funding.”

A small smile toyed at the edges of Hel’s lips. “Some souls are born with luck; others must wait for divine intervention,” she replied enigmatically. She raised a desiccated foot, its scaly appearance and prominent black veins a sharp contrast to the other half of her body where a young woman’s bare foot wiggled its toes as though impishly showing off the surprising pink nail polish. With a thundering crash that rattled the barren ground to the horizon and back, a fissure cut a jagged swath before them.

Caroline watched in disbelief as a pale, muscular arm clawed out of the open earth, pulling with it a familiar head of messy dark blonde curls. She ran toward him, laughing hysterically through her tears as she helped to pull him up to stand beside her. “Klaus,” she breathlessly gasped, hugging him to her in a desperate attempt to prove he was really there with her in that horrible place. 

He cradled the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her soggy blonde strands as he tenderly said, “Sweetheart, I didn’t allow myself to hope…”

The rest of his impassioned speech was brutally cut short with a flick of Hel’s wrist. “Enough. You’re here to judge him, not be swayed by his pretty words, child.” Klaus glared at the goddess, but was rendered speechless by her power. With a jerk of her chin, Klaus was forced against the iron gate where the black snakes easily bound him in place.

“No,” Caroline called out, gesturing wildly at the venom that dripped from the writhing snakes’ fangs onto Klaus’ pale skin. “You’re hurting him!”

Hel declared in an oddly wistful tone, “He’s already dead. There are more lasting ways to inflict pain on a lost soul.”  

His icy stare chilled Caroline, and she found herself wondering what horrors he had endured all these years in the underworld. She was determined to save him. Squaring her shoulders, she tried to keep her voice steady as she faced the demon before her. “You said you wanted me to judge him. Let’s get started.”  

The goddess’ delighted grin was sickening to behold. “How lovely. What I offer you now is a gift, Caroline. The opportunity to get to know who Klaus truly _is_. You’ve known him for such a brief interval. I invite you to experience a defining moment in Klaus’ life. To see firsthand the choices he made that shaped who he _became_.”

Caroline couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder at Klaus. He was struggling against his supernatural bonds, but it was useless. The snakes continued to taunt them both with their demented hissing. _Was he trying to stop her from going through with her quest to rescue him? What had he done that made him think he was unworthy? Did she even have the right to pry into his secrets?_

Her thoughts were racing as she considered Hel’s words. It was in her nature to question the world around her. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she knew the truth of the man she had grown to care for in such a brief amount of time. She hated that circumstances had forced her to make this choice, but she didn’t see another way to save him. She just hoped that Klaus would understand. “Fine,” she huffed, “What do I have to do?”

Hel produced a goblet fashioned out of copper and with a simple twirl of the fingers from her human hand, water from Lake Válað, high overhead, came oozing down into the cup, as though it were a thick, gelatinous matter rather than frigid water. She thrust the goblet into Caroline’s hands and commanded, “Drink of this and you’ll see a vision of the man Klaus was.”

Hesitantly, Caroline felt the unnaturally warm metal under her trembling fingers. She ventured another look at Klaus and was devastated to see the sorrow etched across his face. He clearly knew exactly what vision Hel was about to show her and was already certain she would refuse him. _What could frighten him like this?_ She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but instead, her face felt frozen and she couldn’t find the strength to comfort him in this terrible, broken place.

Caroline contemplated the churning, dark mass in her hands. “I’m suddenly having flashbacks to the trashcan punch at Zeta parties,” she muttered. “I learned my lesson the hard way and _will not_ be eating the fruit,” she told the goddess defiantly as she gulped down the disgusting liquid in one harsh swallow.


	4. Chapter 4

“Cattle die, and kinsmen die,  
And so one dies one’s self;  
But a noble name will never die,  
If good renown one gets.

Cattle die, and kinsmen die,  
And so one dies one’s self;  
One thing now that never dies,  
The fame of a dead man’s deeds.”

_— Hovamol, The Ballad of the High One_

 

 

The unpleasant, cold rush of the lake water flowed through her, and she coughed and sputtered as she tried to catch her breath. Suddenly she was no longer in the desolate underworld, but instead she found herself nearly blinded by a vast sunlit valley of emerald hues. She saw a massive gathering of a Viking clan, clearly ready to march into battle. The warrior-shamans had come forward to perform the sacred rituals to ask the gods for the strength to defeat their enemies. She noted that they wore úlfheðnar, Old Norse for “wolf hides”, as it appeared that this clan’s totem animal was the wolf. They raised their voices in an ecstatic battle cry, their fury and power filling the gathered warriors with the passion and vigor necessary to secure their victory. She could barely contain her excitement as the historian within her greedily took mental notes of their appearance and mannerisms as they solemnly bestowed elaborate blessings upon raiding party. 

Bold laughter caught her attention and she was startled to see Klaus standing next to a group of young men near a gnarled white oak. He was dressed in a long tunic of mail armor, the interlocking iron rings glinting in the sun. He was obviously an important leader in this Norse clan, as the time and materials needed to create such battle gear would have been exorbitantly expensive. The surrounding men were dressed in armor made of reindeer hide and seemed to be sharing a private joke with Klaus despite the seriousness of the impending battle.

A young man with a mischievous smirk clapped Klaus loudly on the back, boasting, “More men today shall feel the blade of my ax than shall fall upon your sword, brother!”

Klaus merely shook his head, an indulgent smile gracing his handsome face as he absentmindedly touched the worn leather scabbard slung across his waist. He muttered to an older man with a disapproving scowl, “What say you, Elijah? The day our foolish brother Kol bests us in battle is the day we lay down our swords.”

Elijah favored both Klaus and Kol with a grim nod. “Do not invite celebration before our victory is met; the gods do not suffer braggarts.”

Klaus’ mirthful laughter at what Caroline assumed was his older, more serious brother’s speech, filled her with joy and she found herself moving closer to the group so that she could feel a connection to him once more, no matter how fleeting. Klaus playfully cuffed Kol on the back of his head and slyly warned, “Remember, brother, brawl with a pig and you go away with his stink!”

Kol’s expression soured as he sulked, “I was barely 15 winters and had we not been fighting downwind I would have smelled the vat of mead on that feeble goatherd’s breath!” He tried crossing his arms in a huff, but his long-handled ax prevented him from being successful. “Bathed in the icy fjord for days ‘til the stench of his vomit wore off.”

Caroline found herself laughing along with the brothers despite the fact that she was merely a casual observer in this vision. The gentle affection of the boisterous group, along with their relaxed shoulders and faces bore no outward appearance of worry for the impending battle. Caroline knew that the reality of witnessing a battle would be far more gruesome than merely reading accounts in literature. She hoped that whatever disturbing memory Klaus had clearly not wanted her to see would present itself quickly.

The arrival of a young boy interrupted her worrisome thoughts. “Brothers! I’m ready to fight,” the boy excitedly crowed while brandishing a long wooden spear with an iron blade.

Elijah drew himself up to his fullest height, proudly nodding his approval at the boy. “Your first battle, Henrik. You’ll carry this day with you forever. Bring honor to our family.”

Caroline took particular delight in the way that Klaus scoffed at his stuffy older brother, elbowing him out of the way. “The gods will show their favor upon you, Henrik. Be not afraid, for we fight by your side on this day.” He ruffled the boy’s chestnut locks, making him look even younger. With a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes he added, “Kol was just regaling us with the tale of his first battle when he was barely 15 winters like you, Henrik. Perhaps Kol will demonstrate the perils of fighting downwind once more?”

Kol favored the laughing brothers with a disgusted look, mumbling curses under his breath before he quickly quieted when he caught the disapproving glare of the clan’s chieftain. Noting Kol’s sudden change in demeanor, the rest of the group followed his gaze and immediately stood at attention when they realized the chieftain was walking toward them.

Caroline observed that the chieftain was clearly of noble birth, as he was proudly carrying an elaborately crafted iron helmet that some of the other warriors gazed upon covetously. She overheard some of his men hail him as “Mikael the Hunter”. The hilt of his heavy sword flashed as he confidently made his way to Klaus and his brothers. With a stern look, Mikael spoke with authority, “You face battle with mirth, young warriors.” At the young men’s hastily downcast eyes and murmurs of atonement, the edges of his grim lips twitched upward. “Good. Show no fear to our enemies. Cast mercy from your hearts. The gods favor the bold, young warriors!” He heartily nodded his approval as Klaus and his brothers bowed their heads as a sign of respect.

He singled out Klaus, casually dismissing the rest and clapping him on the back enthusiastically. He loudly praised Klaus’ past exploits on the battlefield. Apparently, Klaus was every bit the celebrated warrior that Caroline had surmised when she first discovered his tomb. “Your strength upon the battlefield today will bring honor to our family and our people,” he said proudly. Caroline was startled to see the chieftain perform the skuldalið gesture above his heart, the Old Norse blessing that a parent bestowed upon their child as a form of protection. Klaus was not only an important warrior in his time, but as the son of the chieftain, likely would have rule his clan one day.

Before she could wonder about what kind of ruler he would have been, she saw that the youngest brother, Henrik, was practically bouncing on his toes like an eager puppy trying to catch his father’s attention. Mikael cast a frosty glare at the boy for his interruption. He grasped the shaft of the boy’s long spear, yanking it from his grip. He towered over the boy and said harshly, “I expect you to drive your iron into every enemy you see. Do not let me catch you shirking your duty to our blood.”

Henrik swallowed hard, his young voice cracking as he said, “Yes, father. I am not afraid.” Caroline’s heart broke for the teenager as she caught the terror in his eyes that suddenly became suspiciously misty before he broke eye contact with their domineering father. Mikael nodded curtly at the boy, shoving the spear handle back into his trembling fingers before favoring Klaus with one last look of approval before heading toward the front to address his army.

Klaus’ blue eyes became gentle as he picked up on his young brother’s apprehension. “All will be well, Henrik,” he said warmly. “Our family’s warrior blood flows through your veins. Respect it and it shall serve you well.”

Henrik threw back his shoulders, clenching his spear with white knuckles. “I am not afraid,” he said solemnly. As Caroline watched the small boy quietly take his place among the rowdy men, she felt a flicker of apprehension. Clearly the vision wouldn’t linger on insignificant details. She realized that everything she had witnessed so far would somehow become important. Her disquiet increased as she pondered the possibilities.

As the army began their trek through the valley, she reluctantly started to follow them, her stomach queasy at the thought of the horrific battle she was about to witness. Despite Norse history being her life, the violent aspects of this ancient world was not something she wished to see firsthand. She realized that made her a hypocrite, but she never thought she’d be in this bizarre situation of observing human suffering on this scale.

Just as she made up her mind to draw upon what little inner courage she might have and catch up to the swiftly moving warriors, she found that she could not move from her place beside the white oak tree. Frustrated, she tried lifting her legs one at a time, but her sneakers refused to leave the valley floor. As she gazed at the rapidly disappearing Norsemen, she looked around helplessly, trying to figure out her next move. _Why had the vision made her stop here? What was she supposed to see in an empty valley?_

Hysterical crying rang out, and her blue eyes widened in surprise as she caught Henrik racing away from his kinsmen, his pitiful spear long gone as he came tearing through the valley. Even from a distance, she could hear his hitching moans of fear, and her own fight-or-flight instincts kicked in as adrenaline flooded her system. When he finally ran past Caroline, she caught his wild-eyed expression and tear-streaked face as he blundered into the thick forest that surrounded the emerald valley. A wave of protectiveness washed over her and she felt compelled to offer him whatever comfort she could, despite the fact that she knew it would do no good; she was a ghostly presence in this vision, an inconsequential shade to this world. Without hesitation, Caroline turned to follow the distraught teenage boy, only to cry out in dismay as the air shifted around her, swiftly transporting her away from the troubling vision.

Caroline found herself in the middle of a village. Night had fallen, but a large bonfire lit up the solemn faces of the audience she found herself standing near. She caught dark mutterings and curses from many of those gathered, and her disquiet increased. The night air was fraught with worry, and she felt an involuntary shiver.

A long table was perched upon a raised wooden platform at the center of the village square, and a group of serious-looking men seemed to be holding court there. Caroline recognized Mikael, who sat in the middle as the clan leader, and Klaus sat to his immediate right, signaling his authority. The remaining men were clearly village elders. Caroline searched the crowd for the rest of Klaus’ brothers, trying to ascertain how long after the battle this vision took place.

The crowd suddenly parted, and Caroline found herself being roughly swept to the side. She craned her neck for a better view, desperate to see what was happening. She was confused to see Elijah at the edge of the crowd, calmly marching down the cleared path. His face was impassive, but there was a spark of anger in his dark eyes that caught her attention. Her heart sank as she realized that he was not alone. Elijah held within his unrelenting grasp a squirming, pale Henrik. The villagers’ greedy eyes bore into the young man, clearly wanting to remember every detail of his discomfort. They made their way toward the raised platform of the clan’s leaders, a muscle twitching in Elijah’s jaw that revealed his anger.

Elijah’s cold voice addressed them, his bitterness apparent as he refused to look at his younger brother. “I have brought before the council the boy as requested.”

Caroline closed her eyes in defeat as she realized what was about to happen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some violence. Also, brace yourselves.

“Now my course is tough:

Death, close sister

of Odin's enemy

stands on the ness:

with resolution

and without remorse

I will gladly await my own.”

— _Sonatorrek_ by Egill Skallagrímsson

 

 

Loud murmurs and jeers were uttered by the crowd, all vying for a better look at the trembling teenager. Mikael raised his heavily scarred arm, and a hush instantly fell upon the gathering as they anxiously waited for the outcome. The chieftain’s frosty gaze addressed Henrik, and his booming voice seemed to sap what little strength Henrik had left. “You have brought shame upon your blood and upon your clan. Your cowardice in the face of battle is a stain upon your soul.” He addressed the other leaders at the table and asked, “The penalty for this crime is banishment. Do you agree?” One by one, the other men nodded solemnly, never once looking at the poor boy.

Caroline realized she was crying as she watched conflicting emotions flicker across Klaus’ handsome face. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of his youngest brother, and she watched how his hands were clenched in tight fists as though his body was at war with his thoughts. She could see how ashamed he was of Henrik for his actions; obviously honor was sacred among the Norsemen. His sorrow was evident as he took a ragged breath, and yet he firmly nodded his assent with the rest of the council. He closed his eyes at the sound of Henrik’s pitiful cries as several villagers carried the struggling boy off into the darkness, presumably to abandon him in the vast forest.

“Father! I promise to be brave! _Please_!” Henrik’s terrified screams echoed in the harsh night, and yet those gathered to bear witness were unmoved. Only Klaus gave the smallest hint of remorse, but he stubbornly kept his eyes closed, unwilling to watch his youngest brother’s fate, the one he had cruelly helped decide.

Caroline shook her head, devastated by what she had witnessed. Her research gave her a grasp of the Viking code of honor, and she knew that trying to reconcile her modern morals with the ethics of their world was horribly unfair. She sighed helplessly. Just because she understood didn’t mean she _understood_.

She looked around the small village, waiting for the heartbreaking vision to come to an end, but instead, the air shimmered around her, signaling she was about to be taken elsewhere in Klaus’ memories. She shuddered to think of what else the goddess Hel wanted her to witness. Feeling dizzy, she fell, her fingers sliding into ground that was suddenly marshy and cold. Startled, she scrambled to her feet and realized that it was daylight once more.

She blinked against the harsh sunlight caught between the tangled branches of the dense forest. She backed up uncertainly, jumping slightly when her hip brushed against a roughly hewn stone slab. A curious cluster of objects sat upon it, including fire-blacked rye bread, stout candles made of beeswax, and carved yew branches painstakingly placed in a circle. She reached out a shaking hand to brush against the harsh surface, cringing as she saw the insidious red stains that faded to rust.

She snatched her hand away, heart pounding. She cast her gaze beyond the stone table and spied the peat bog. And suddenly she understood. _No_. The table was an altar. The yew tree symbolized life and death in the ancient world. She sucked in a shaking breath as she tried to make sense out of her racing thoughts. Suddenly, heavy footfalls broke the silence of the woods.

Five men trudged toward her, and she noticed that Mikael was leading the group with his sword drawn victoriously, blood splattered liberally across his chest and face. Behind Mikael were three men, covered in mud and numerous injuries that wept blood, all with bound wrists and gags. Klaus marched behind the group, his face uncharacteristically stern. Caroline tried to determine how long it had been since Henrik’s heartbreaking banishment from the clan. It seemed as though some time had passed as Klaus appeared slightly older, and hauntingly withdrawn from his surroundings.  

Mikael halted by the altar, turning around to address the three prisoners. “You crossed blades with my kinsmen. You shed their blood. Now we shed yours to appease the goddess Hel.” He walked behind the bound men, placing a harsh kick to the legs of each until they clumsily knelt before the altar, their cloth gags muffling their gasps of pain. He straightened, giving Klaus a curt nod. “You will dispatch the tributes and return for the feast.”

“Yes, father,” Klaus replied without emotion, already moving his hand to his leather scabbard.

Mikael grinned, the blood splatters on his haggard skin giving him the appearance of a feral creature, more beast than man. Caroline was sickened as she caught the bloodlust in the chieftain’s cold eyes. “Tonight, we celebrate our victory, brave warrior!” He narrowed his eyes as though he sensed Klaus’ disinterest. His voice roughened as he spat, “They struck down your brothers. Elijah and Kol have _fallen_. Show them _no mercy_.”

Mikael’s vindictive words seemed to light a spark within Klaus who stepped forward with his sword drawn. The fearsome chieftain exited the woods, clearly confident that his prized warrior son would carry out his wishes.

Caroline brought her hands to her mouth in terror at what she was about to witness. “No,” she called out in a strained voice, “Don’t!” She shook her head, whining pitifully as she realized her cries couldn’t be heard in this wretched place, that what was about to be had already happened and she was merely a helpless observer to Klaus’ turbulent past.

She watched the man she had grown to care for in such a short time gaze at the prisoners of war, his blue eyes dead. His sword caught the tiny strips of sunlight that filtered through the snarled branches, momentarily blinding Caroline as she ran forward foolishly to try to stop his actions. Before she could reach him, he had delivered killing blows to two of the men, cleanly sliding his blade across their throats. The arterial spray covered everything around the group including the altar, the rough stone thirstily soaking up the sacrifices’ life force. He dragged each body to the peat bog and unceremoniously tossed them in.

Caroline knew from her field work that the bodies would sink below the surface and over time, they would be remarkably well-preserved because of the acidic conditions of the peat bog. She recalled excavations of Scandinavian peat bogs where she was stunned to find skin and bits of hair stretched across the desiccated corpses. _This may have even been one of my future dig sites,_ she thought. Her hands trembled as she realized she may have witnessed the violent death of sacrifice victims she had carefully cataloged over the years. It was too _real_. She found herself longing for the days of her blissful ignorance, when she studied Norse culture with an almost clinical detachment and merely hypothesized about its violence. _Foolish girl_.

As Klaus returned to the stone altar where the final tribute knelt in terror, something seemed to come over him. Suddenly his frightening, expressionless face came alive once more as he stared down at the man. Feeling the smallest bit of hope, Caroline crept forward to get a closer look at the prisoner. Her breath caught when she realized what Klaus must have seen. The man before them was barely a man. He was a skinny teenage boy with matted chestnut locks, _just like Henrik’s_. But it was the eyes that pulled you in — they were still so full of innocence, silently pleading with his captor for mercy. The phantom sounds of Henrik’s pitiful, transparent protest, “I am not afraid,” rang in her ears, breaking her heart all over again.

“Please,” Caroline whispered, despite the fact that she knew no one could hear her.

As though her prayers had been answered, Klaus pulled the young man up to his feet, removing the gag and cutting through his leather bindings. He favored the shivering prisoner with a grim look and said in a savage whisper, “Go.”

The boy immediately began running deeper into the woods, not bothering to look over his shoulder to see if he was being chased for sport. Caroline didn’t blame him. Even now, she wasn’t sure of Klaus’ decision. What she had witnessed was unprecedented.

Viking codes of honor were immoveable, resolute. They banished or killed those who dishonored their clan, they mercilessly slaughtered their enemies on the battlefield, and they sacrificed prisoners of war and criminals to the gods. This was what she _knew_. The fact that Klaus defied his father and chieftain and showed mercy to a tribute, especially one who apparently was responsible for the death of his brothers, was unbelievable. However much time had passed since he had agreed to Henrik’s banishment still plagued him. He carried that guilt with him and it was so strong that when an enemy appeared before him that evoked Henrik’s memory, he felt compelled to spare him.

Before Caroline could try to reconcile her conflicting feelings, attempting to assimilate what she thought she knew about Klaus versus what she had learned, she noticed that Klaus had started moving in the opposite direction of where the prisoner had fled. _Where was he going_ , she thought in confusion as she hurried to catch up. He stopped abruptly, closing his eyes and listening intently. A small whimper reached her ears and she felt a growing sense of dread. She could guess what had made that pitiful sound, but desperately hoped she was wrong.

She didn’t bother following Klaus as he disappeared behind a thicket of saplings. He soon emerged with a small boy who was perhaps 12. The boy seemed wild, and kept making harsh, grunting noises as he slapped ineffectively at Klaus’ chest. Caroline noticed that the boy was walking with a limp, and upon further examination, it appeared that one leg was withered. He was one of the abandoned children, she realized sadly. In this time, the life expectancy was cruelly short and only the healthiest of children made it to adulthood. Those who were born with illnesses or defects were left in the woods by their clans. This boy had somehow survived on his own all these years.

Klaus stopped short and examined one of the boy’s pale arms thoughtfully, seemingly interested in the curious red lines that wound their way up the boy’s shoulder. Caroline’s heart sank as it appeared Klaus had reached a decision. She watched in horror as he dragged the squealing boy back to the stone altar. She looked away, sickened, as she heard the gurgle of the boy’s final breath when Klaus’s sword cut his throat. The thick silence that followed was too much to bear and she couldn’t help but look up to catch Klaus place the body into the peat bog with the other sacrifices.

Caroline failed to stop her tears as she watched Klaus gaze at the sacrifices sinking into the peat bog with an unreadable expression. She had considered herself sophisticated, worldly even, a celebrated academic and noted authority in her field. She was said to know everything there was to know about Norse culture. A harsh, bitter laugh escaped her. _She knew nothing_. She understood now how small her world truly was. Her so-called ‘celebrated knowledge’ was barely a raindrop in the vast ocean of this cruel world. What she had seen, what she had experienced — she would never be the same.

_Reading about history and living it were two different things_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for joining me on this crazy ride to the Norse underworld. I'm sure there are a lot of mixed feelings about Klaus’ decisions in the vision, and while I can’t promise you’ll agree with the explanations found in the chapter, I can promise you’ll at least have more information to form an opinion about the events. 
> 
> Warning: Some violence.

“Who is the mighty one who o’er much has sway,  
the half of whom turns toward Hel?  
He saves many men but slashes the earth,  
if fast with trusty friend.”

— _The Riddles of King Heithrek_

 

 

 

Trembling from the heavy weight of her newfound knowledge, Caroline didn’t realize the air had shimmered, returning her to the underworld once more. When she regained her bearings, she was disgusted to see that the menacing stone altar from the vision appeared with her. The bloodstains from the sacrifices clung wetly to its rough surface, taunting her with their dark secrets. She backed away slowly, uncomfortable being so close to an object that had witnessed so much suffering.

“Ah, our sweet girl has returned,” Hel proclaimed with glee. Flames danced in her eyes as she added slyly, “I trust you found the visions to be illuminating.”

Caroline wrenched her gaze from the altar to look upon the goddess’ unsettling visage. Both the demonic and human halves seemed to reach for her, imposing their presence and dominating the space between them. She needed distance as well as time to get her thoughts in order, but she unfortunately was denied the luxury of either. She sensed that an audience with Hel was fleeting, and she needed to maintain some semblance of control in this impossible situation.

She dangerously turned her back on the powerful creature and walked toward the wrought iron where Klaus was still pinned by the writhing snakes. He sagged against the massive gate under the weight of her stare. He bowed his curly head in shame, unwilling to face the judgement he was certain to see upon her face. She stepped forward and stubbornly commanded, “Klaus, look at me.”

The sorrow etched across the hard planes of his face and the rigid way he clenched his body all spoke of his assumption that she would now abandon him to a terrible fate he believed he deserved. She hated that Hel had taken away his ability to speak. She needed the familiarity of his voice to give her the strength to do what needed to be done. She permitted herself to look upon him once more, searing his visage within her memory. _Just in case_.

Head held high, Caroline returned to Hel, mindful to keep the stone altar between them. With a clear voice full of false confidence, she said, “That final memory was different from the others. _I felt it_. What are you not showing me?”

Hel seemed stricken, but smoothly recovered from her initial shock. In an oily voice she said knowingly, “You cannot seek to see more than what _I_ allow. Do not think my patience infinite, child.” She pointed her demonic claw across the stone slab, the sharp point nearly brushing the skin above Caroline’s heart. “What say you? Do you still find Klaus worthy of resurrection?”

Caroline took a quick breath to steady her nerves. She braced herself for what was to follow. In a one fluid motion, she brought her palm to her mouth, tearing through the soft ivory flesh with her blunt human teeth. Ignoring the stabbing pain, she dug in sharply, instantly tasting the copper-tinged flavor of her own blood. Once the blood began to flow freely, she slammed her wounded palm onto the stained altar. She refused to flinch as she ground her injury into the coarse stone, defiantly glaring at the goddess Hel. “When you willingly shed your blood before a god, you can force them to reveal the details of _any_ pact they have made.” She fearlessly met the frightening deity’s narrowed gaze and ordered, “Tell me about your pact with Klaus’ clan.”

Hel’s eyes grew obsidian in her rage at Caroline’s impertinence. “His kinsmen were to sacrifice three tributes after each battle to retain my blessing. If they failed to deliver three, I would take their entire village as my tribute.”

Caroline nodded as the pieces began to fall into place. Klaus had weighed the life of one against the lives of many. She couldn’t begin to understand the world that would allow such reasoning to prevail, because she had never been faced with such a terrible decision. Her voice was eerily calm as she continued her interrogation. “There’s more, isn’t there? Something was wrong with the young boy Klaus killed. The look on his face when he saw the boy’s arm — what did he see?”

The goddess shook her head in refusal, luxurious blonde locks sliding playfully across her desiccated demonic half. “That knowledge is lost to time — _and_ to you. And has no bearing upon these proceedings.”

“Bullshit,” Caroline swore heatedly. “The boy was sacrificed to _you_. As _your_ tribute, he is part of _your_ pact.” Her blue eyes glittered triumphantly. “Now tell me what I want to know.”

Muttering under her breath, Hel grudgingly explained, “The boy had injured himself recently and caught the fever that would soon sicken his blood. His death was inevitable.”

_Fever. Blood sickness_. Caroline thought back to the thin red streaks she saw marring the boy’s pale skin. Those marks had been the early stages of gangrene. Even today, gangrene could be fatal if left untreated. During the Viking era, the boy hadn’t stood a chance. The blood flow to the injury would have halted, and bacteria would have invaded, causing the soft tissue to die off. Somewhere between the fever and the accompanying delirium, the boy would have died an agonizing death.

While Caroline couldn’t set aside her own morality and deeply ingrained sense of right and wrong, she could at least admit that Klaus’ actions had spared the boy a drawn-out, painful death. She looked upon Klaus once more, whose sorrowful eyes studied her intensely, silently begging for understanding. His face bore the look of one who believed himself to have already lost hope, and her heart ached at the devastation she saw there.

In this impossible situation, she couldn’t begin to weigh what she _knew_ to be right versus what she _felt_. Her thoughts were in turmoil, and she may never be able to come to terms with what she witnessed. Whether she could accept Klaus’ actions, could accept his views, was something she couldn’t answer with any certainty. All she could do was approach the situation with an open heart.

Coming to a decision, she faced down the goddess. “I studied you, you know,” Caroline said to Hel with forced casualness. “What little there was to study. Norsemen aren’t big on sharing the limelight with strong women.” She frowned and her tone turned into a bit of a growl as she added, “Unfortunately, society still has a long way to go with that.” She crossed her arms in front of her as she continued, “Odin killed your love, Fenrir, because it was said your offspring would bring forth Ragnarök, the Viking apocalypse. You shed tears for your lost love and the child that you never had.”

Hel’s tone was measured and calculating, even as her eyes burned with fire. “Foolish mortals put such faith in words. As though the truth can be measured by mere scribbling.” Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “The truth can be malleable and carries a weight you cannot fathom, child.”

“It is said when you lost Fenrir, your tears formed a lake. _Mine_ would’ve created an ocean,” Caroline said proudly. “And that’s the only truth I need.” She faced Klaus, who wore a look of utter disbelief at her impassioned speech. Gazing into his hopeful face, she vowed, “He is worthy of a second chance.”

Hel bowed her head, a small smile touching her lips. “Very well. You have passed judgement upon this lost soul. I shall grant him a second life in your world.” With a quick snap of her wrist, the black snakes released Klaus from the gate.

Caroline barely heard the goddess’ words as she raced forward to hurl herself into Klaus’ waiting arms. She breathed in his familiar musk of leather and a hint of spice, clinging to his solid form as though fearful he would disappear once again.

Klaus murmured lowly against her blonde waves, “After all that you witnessed, you do not turn from me. I didn’t allow myself to believe that you could accept me once you knew the truth.”

Caroline drew back slightly, brushing at stray tears that clung to her cheeks. “Klaus…there’s so much to sift through, figuring out what we are to each other and what it means having gone through this nightmare together. I cannot promise that I can accept what I saw,” she hesitated as she felt him stiffen beneath her, fearful of what she would utter next. She grasped his face with both of her hands, forcing him to see the strength of her feelings for him and swore, “But I can promise you that my heart is open. I want us to try together. And maybe be happy and be in love and just…be.”

His smile lit up his entire face, causing her to burst into insane giggles that seemed hopelessly out of place in this broken, awful world. He kissed her until they were both breathless, clutching her tightly. He mumbled against her soft lips, “Sweetheart, you have made me the luckiest man in your world.”

“ _Our_ world now, buddy. You’re just lucky I’m far too lazy to find another co-author,” she cheekily replied.

Far above their heads, the lake began swirling, sending down a thick column of cold, dark water that shimmered despite the bleak surroundings. Hel stepped behind them and pointed toward the portal she had summoned. “Your gateway to the mortal world awaits.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, Caroline grabbed Klaus’ hand, glancing over her shoulder to favor the demonic goddess with one last look. “It’s been…well, you know what it’s been. Let’s _never_ do this again, okay?”

Hel grinned, the withered skin of her demon side stretching unpleasantly across her sharp cheekbone. “ _Never_ is a promise that cannot bear weight, little one.” She shrugged nonchalantly, adding, “But you’ll discover that for yourself.”

Shaking her head in confusion, Caroline dismissed the Norse deity’s strange words, anxious to leave with Klaus. As the pair stepped into the column of icy water, they watched how the massive iron gate with its writhing mass of black snakes seemed to melt before their startled eyes. She whispered in Klaus’ ear, “You realize you’re going to have a tough time topping this date, right?”

The goddess Hel watched Caroline and Klaus slip through the portal she had raised with an unreadable expression upon her enigmatic, terrifying face. Before the couple disappeared completely from her sight, her demon claw formed the skuldalið gesture above her heart, the traditional Old Norse blessing that a parent bestowed upon their child as a form of protection.

_“Never” was far too long for a mother to wait._


End file.
